Awareness
by JulietGivesUp
Summary: The countries are always ignoring Canada as if he he didn't exist. What if it was the other way around? What if Canada and his handpick allies revolt against all of the well known nations of the world? Changed Summary! Image by identityLOST-NOname.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a quick temporary (possibly multi-chapter) fanfic. I still don't know if I want to make this a serious or funny story, so I guess it all depends on you, the reader, or my mood when I'm writing it. I suppose I can make it either ways. I like making humor but I wonder if I can actually write angst and seriousness. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Awareness**

Enough was enough and today was the day.

Canada barged into the World Summit Meeting with a determined look. Ten other nations lined up behind him on both sides. Resolution and genuine persistence were painted on the faces of the solemn countries releasing a heavy, almost intimidating aura.

The baffled countries dropped their trivial affairs and turned to look back at their foreboding company at once. Each prepared themselves for devastating news, like an overwhelming earthquake injuring one of their fellow nations, or a sudden terrorist attack on one of the world's biggest cities, or perhaps a sudden scientific discovery that the world was surely going to end in a few days' time. They all fixed their eyes on the leader of the grave party.

In return the Canadian looked intently back at them with his steely violet eyes. His mouth was set in a hard, grim line, unsmiling. He cleared his throat before speaking in his loudest voice.

"We have all come to make a very important announcement."

A string of countries cringed in displeasure fearing for the worse. The tone in Canada's voice was nonetheless chilling. They had never seen, that is, they had never bothered to notice the North American nation before. Most assumed that he was irrelevant to be involved in their world matters. The statement was also true for the figures lined up behind the nation. Nevertheless they leaned onto the edge of their seats to hear out the Canadian.

"It has been known throughout the years of humankind that some of us countries have been blandly unacknowledged and outright unappreciated by the superpowers, as well as the formal countries that sit in this very room. Whether it is from being unrecognized as a true nation by their surrounding peers or simply shunned away from global verdicts, my colleagues and I deem it all unjust. Therefore, the following nations will be severing their international ties and relations with the global union of nations. From this day forth, we will officially be the United Awareness Correlations."

A long silence filled the room. Inquiring whispers and mumbles followed soon after. This continued on until one of the countries let out a suppressed giggle, then a wave of laughter erupted from the stuffy conference room. Every nation in the continent was laughing their heads off at the Canadian's far-fetched declaration. The lot of course, included America, England, Russia, China, and even Italy.

After a lot of patience and jeers, England was the first to try and contain himself. With a lopsided grin, he addressed Canada.

"Well is that so? I surely hope _you_ don't mind but we, influential countries, have a very important meeting to get back to. Err…what is your real business here?"

"Yeah, bro! We're like talking about global matters here and you, like, just burst in here with a jacked up joke. What's the deal, dude?"

"Don't be laughing at us you big oaf! Why do you all have to be so mean?" Sealand shouted from the group.

Canada shot him a silencing glare that made the micro-nation immediately catch hold of his tongue. Sealand receded back to the others and looked patiently at the ground.

Canada turned back to England with a calm, composed face. The laughter subsided quite quickly and the room was once again hushed. He cleared his throat and pulled out a stack of documents from his suit. With a thwack, the papers landed and slid across the table to America and England. Both looked at the files inquisitively. In the very first page was the heading:

**Secession from the International Union  
**

"We weren't kidding _Mister _America. We are all tired and done with you. _All_ of you, in fact. And to show that I am serious, Canada is closing off all international communication and trade with America. _**I am closing the border**._"

Canada flicked his eyes dangerously at America and marched smugly out the door. Ten others followed in suit, never once looking back at their former family members. Their footsteps echoed in the large hall becoming fainter with each footfall.

The countries of the world silently gathered to look at the Canadian's reminder. The very last page contained scrawled signatures of the eleven withdrawed nations. In bright red ink were the names:

_Prussia_

_ Cuba_

_ Hong Kong  
_

_Australia _

_Liechtenstein _

_South Italy_

_Seychelles _

_Latvia _

_Lithuania _

_Sealand_

_Canada_

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**Author Notes:**

**1. I'm sorry about Canada's group's official name. It sounds pretty stupid now that I look at it, but I couldn't think of anything else.  
**

**2. I don't mean to imply that the eleven countries are useless in any way. They just seemed like the ones (I thought) would be fit for the story's complications. Go Team Canada!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all your comments. They were greatly appreciated. **

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**Awareness(II)**

It's been a long day ever since Canada's sudden declaration and the nations piled out the door at the very end of their meeting. Most of them left with an incredulous, almost lighthearted atmosphere. They were still skeptical about the whole event that morning and couldn't deem it possible that the whole world would go in shambles if eleven _useless_ nations were taken off from the map.

The conference room quickly emptied in a few minutes time, that is, except for the few who remained behind. Sitting on one of the chairs was dear Italy. A distressed frown was abnormally fixed on his grim face. He had his head on the table contemplating about his other half, Romano. What could have caused his brother to do this?

Wasn't he happy being with him? Sure, he was cranky and upset most of the time, but did his foul mood really develop into _that_ much…scorn, that he'd be pushed to separate from Northern Italy? Was it possible that _he_ was the source of his brother's hatred?

Italy played back memories in his head to answer his questions. A scene randomly clicked onto his head from when he and Romano were but tiny nations. Grandpa Rome was sitting beside little Italy teaching him, _encouraging_ him to pursue his creative nature through art. Thus, the Renaissance was born. The two were sitting by the streambed drawing and laughing. At one point, Grandpa Rome stopped and patted his head. Looking out into the far distance, Grandpa Rome began to tell Italy about how he'd grow up to be the most beautiful nation in the world.

"A great nation that would continue to flourish throughout the generations. A great, wonderful nation that everyone would remember and love."

Italy was overjoyed back then…but something was missing…

Where had Romano been all that time?

Tears were starting to form on Italy's half-lidded eyes. He swiftly wiped them away before anybody could see. He felt a hand settled on his shoulder and looked up to see Spain. The Spaniard wore a smile as usual but weariness was obviously matched it from his green eyes.

"I don't know what has come over him either, mi amigo… but I'm sure he'll be okay."

Italy nodded and looked at all the others in the room. In the seat beside him was Germany. The German caught his glance and tried to smile for him, although he had his own problems to deal with right now. Why his stupid _'bruder_' decided to walk out on him, Germany didn't know.

The last time he saw his brother near his house was when the "Awesome Prussia" announced that he was finally a nation again. There was a lot of beer drinking and partying that followed, courtesy of Prussia. Being the more level-headed of the two, Germany had to correct his older brother.

"Vell, technically you're just a micro-nation. You're nowhere near participating in any of the conferences."

Germany regretted the words soon after they left his mouth. Prussia immediately ceased drinking his ten gallons of beer and narrowed his red, beady eyes at him. Chaos and fighting ensued. Prussia tried to convince his brother on letting him be a true nation by wrestling him to the ground. However, Germany would have none of it. Recognizing his brother as a separate union was hard enough, he didn't need to fully accept Prussia as a country. After a few blows, the two called it a draw and Prussia left the house a little worse for wear.

The German drew a long sigh, touching his bruised cheek. The pain had not healed yet.

From across the table, Switzerland was impatiently tapping his ball point pen in an attempt to clear his head. The thought of his precious baby sister joining up with those rogues made his blood boil. He couldn't think of a single reason why Liechtenstein would abandon him. He had given her plenty of food and protection. What more could anyone possibly ask for? With a loud snap, the pen broke in half, the blue ink gushed out on Switzerland's clenched fist.

And if Switzerland's wrath wasn't scary enough, the purple-eyed Russian beside him was releasing such an aura that could not be match by anyone. He wore his scarf and his innocent smile as per usual; however, one couldn't miss the malice in his voice as he mumbled Latvia and Lithuania's names. The fact of the matter is Russia couldn't remember why it concerned him so much. Latvia and Lithuania were separate countries from him now. They were no longer under his charge, _they _made sure of that. But still, Russia couldn't help but feel a pang of betrayal and desertion.

China sat beside Russia, bored and indifferent for his former province. It didn't bother him one bit, because he knew that Hong Kong would be crawling back to him after this little situation. He had already lodged it into Hong Kong's mind that he'd be there to help him in his pathetic, unfortunate state. Until then, all he had to do was wait. A small smile formed on China's face as he directed his eyes to the "Westerners."

In the head of the table stood America, England, and France. Out of all the countries in the room, they were the only ones actively arguing. France was questioning Seychelle's involvement and directed his questions to England. The Brit mistook it for accusations.

"Oi! Why are you always treating me as a scapegoat? It's not my problem nor do I care if your old colony's part of this absurd secession. Moreover, I have enough problems myself with Canada being the head of the association," England contradicted. The Frenchman made boisterous gestures and murmured something crossly in French.

"Well, it's not like you're the only one who's concerned about mon cher Canada! I did raise him after all!" yelled France.

"Yeah, after you surrendered him to me."

"Mon Dieu! Take that back, you stupid Englishman! At least, I'm not the bad father that ignores one of his _few_ remaining countries. Heh, I remember the time with America and _Australia._ Who is it now, Angletterre? _Sealand_, am I correct?" France mocked heatedly.

The mention of Sealand and Australia fueled England's temper even more. "That ungrateful brat isn't even a real nation. And he had no right to join the secession in the first place-"

"Hmm? Maybe that's why he left you. But wait, this isn't the first time one of your boys left you, _non_?"

"I'm going to strangle you, you atrocious, no good, bloody, frog!" England barked. He aimed his fist at France's face but a certain American caught it before it connected.

"Whoa! Chill guys. No need to have fists flying everywhere. I'm sure my bro was just kidding. The Hero will-," America began to say before the heat of England and France's glare quieted him. England took a ragged breath, his face pink from all the yelling.

"It's all just fun and games with you, isn't it? Yes, of course, it's all just a joke-get real America! Your brother severed his ties with you and you act like it's no big deal? Why I oughta-!" England was held back by France before he could physically harm America.

"Let go of me ye bloody tosser! I must give this asinine git a piece of my mind! I said let go!" France immediately released England. He knew fully well that his efforts were in vain. France resorted to sitting down and rubbing his temples. The shouting directed all of the nation's eyes towards their dysfunctional trio.

England marched angrily up to America.

"I bet this is all your fault. One country. One _bloody_ country; a _brother_ to take care of in your isolated continent, and you blew it! You fucking blew it! After you declared your independence and shit, I trusted you to take care of the continent. I can't believe I actually thought you were capable of supporting a whole nation, much less your own brother! Me, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, actually left North America to a childish twit!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything to Canada-" America tried to say but once again England cut him off.

"Oh? Is that so? Well then, fix it! Fix all of this madness! See to your brother and don't bother even talking to me until all this mess is cleared up!"

The Brit left the meeting room and soon China, Russia, Switzerland, and all the others followed. Before he left, France sighed and patted America in the back.

"We're all counting on you, _Hero_."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**1. I apologize for not putting that much emphasis on Sealand and Australia. They're well underway though.  
**

**2. I decided to make this story serious and angst-y. Maybe if I finish this mini-story, I can make a humorous version or omake in a different perspective.  
**

**3. A response for : I never thought of putting Estonia into the plot. I'm sure it would make a good storyline, but I'm afraid I don't have the heart to add him now.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again, dear readers! This is the third installment of 'Awareness.' Once again, I must thank you all for reviewing. They were very nice to read and I appreciate them greatly. I hope this chapter turns out good as well.**

* * *

**Awareness (III) **

America slammed the door to his house in Washington D.C. Several thoughts plagued his mind as he made his way to the couch. Without a moment's hesitation, he belly flopped onto the soft, comforting cushions with a big sigh. There was so much going on that he literally had to take a piece of paper and organize his thoughts. He titled it "PRIORITIES" and numbered it from one to five.

In number one, America wrote down 'Elections and Economy.' The U.S. election was coming up soon and he had to mentally prepare himself for the new president. He inwardly wished that the elected president would somehow be as 'cool' and 'awesome' as Washington or maybe even Roosevelt. But either way, America wanted _change_ if his economy was going to get any better…

Second on the list was labeled 'Food.' His stomach grumbled as he scribbled the word down. He got up and casually shoved a popcorn bag into the microwave. He set it on medium for two minutes.

Resuming his previous position in the couch America moved on to number three. He thought about it for several minutes before finally putting down "Fix all of this madness!"/ "We're all counting on you, Hero." The blonde grinned at the last one and put subheadings under it. He drew himself as a hero with bushy brows and the Frenchie in the sidelines rooting for him. Without even thinking about it, he drew another person by the hero's side that most _certainly _did not look like his northern neighbor.

The country continued brainstorming for ideas.

_Solutions:_

_+Offer the all of the countries a green card so they can be proud to be an American citizen._

_+Share my awesome healthcare ideas with them._

_+Sell them moon rocks for cheap prizes._

_+Claim the moon as American territory, separate them into zones, and name them after Prussia and his group in the hopes that they'll be so honored to be named in my awesome new territory that they won't be pissy anymore._

_+Expand more of my fast food chains into their country so that they can always enjoy good food and not be cranky because of the crap they have to eat every day._

America decided that was enough and that he'd think about it a little more some other day when priorities one and two were checked off. The kernels in the microwave popped noisily as the bag expanded. The smell of butter and salt wafted into the living room filling the distracted American's nostrils.

For number four, "Australia" was scribbled down messily. America couldn't help but feel the Australian glaring at him murderously during the meeting. He chose to ignore it then, but now he felt pretty offended. The last time he checked, he never had anything to do with the 'Land Down Under.' Heck, he didn't even know where in the map Australia was, so there was no way he could've done anything to the vicious nation. The blond shrugged it off with an exasperated sigh and resumed to the next item on the list.

In number five was 'Canada.'

Off all the countries in the world, America was appalled to hear his neighbor threatened him in such a way. To think, that his old beloved neighbor, no, _brother_, actually wanted to sever their special relationship with each other. _How could he?_

After all those decades of being allies, America guessed that Canada just woke up one morning and decided, "Since I absolutely have nothing to do today, I might as well be a total dick and screw with my brother."

After all those _years_ of turbulent times, his most important partner in crime left him for no reason whatsoever.

_I've been a good, supportive brother_, America told himself. _I…I influenced his…umm…modern culture and…I'd been there when Canada desperately needed someone to..uhh..trade…with? Yeah! Without me, his economy wouldn't even last a day. And the Monroe Doctrine! Yes! I made that up just for him! Uhh…I mean, I think so anyway…But even so, this is entirely his fault 'cuz on the whole I've been a saint to him! So there's no way it could've been the Hero's fault. _

The American sauntered over to the kitchen to retrieve his midnight snack.

…_No way it could've been the Hero's fault…._

…_could've been the Hero's fault… _

He paused for a moment, contemplating. _…the Hero's fault…_

Shaking his head, he forced an uneasy chuckle and drizzled more butter onto the freshly made popcorn. Canada couldn't possibly cut himself off with the rest of the world like that.

"How can eleven measly nations support themselves without informative and financial interactions with the global community? It's unthinkable!" America assured himself.

He reached for the remote and sat back on his comfy couch. America hoped that tv would relieve some of his stressed and flicked it on the nearest channel. A late night rerun of _America's Funniest Home Videos _was playing and it instantly brought a smile to the nation's face. His tense muscles relaxed a bit and he threw away his formal business tie in a dark corner somewhere.

However, right in the middle of the broadcast, the show was cut off and was switched to air a crucial news report. America frowned and grimaced as the brunette reporter addressed the newsflash.

"**Breaking news here tonight in Ontario, Canada! It seems as though the Canadian government is already taking measures to enforce their oath on closing off its borders with the United States. Just how Canada will be able to implement the world's longest land border in total security, we don't know, nor can we comprehend how much of a change this will bring about for America. **

**Because of this sudden revolution, many conflicts have arisen in the bordering areas. Trucks carrying goods are being stopped and asked to turn back by the Canadian military forces. Lawyers are being summoned left and right for this complicated dispute and we have yet to hear from the issue again.**

**In even worse news, fistfights and gunshots have erupted and have been reported by many of the locals here. One witness says that a group of patriotic Americans were engaged in a heated argument with equally patriotic Canadians from on the other side of the border. One thing led to another and before long, the Canadians unleashed their mighty hockey sticks and for the Americans, their ruthless baseball bats. The fight soon brought over the U.S. and Canadian polices…and shots were fired from both sides.**

**This is a truly disastrous ordeal we have here so late at night as one ground breaking question stands; _how will the United States of America respond to Canada's call for withdrawal?"_ **

**__**The popcorn went flying into the carpet as America picked up his jacket and fled the house in search for his enigmatic brother.

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**Well, there you have it folks! **

**Author's Notes:  
**

**1. I thought a lot about Estonia's involvement in all of this and perhaps I may add or mention him a little later on. To be honest, I'm not fairly familiar with Estonia's character and traits. Unfortunately, Wikipedia isn't enough for me to completely grasp his character. Maybe one of you could provide an informative description?  
**

**2. I'm afraid to say it, but Canada and America are going to be mainly involved in all of this. Sealand is too, of course, but most of the vital conflicts revolve around these two. It doesn't mean that the other countries won't be showcased. It just means that the two brothers will be somewhat 'influencing' the others, per say. So don't be surprise to find these two in most of the chapters.  
**

**3. And with that said, Canada's point of view will be presented in the next chapter. Till then, adieu! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome to the fourth chapter of this fanfic. I was planning on writing this last week, but due to the end of the school year and lots and lots of work, I couldn't even look at Microsoft Word. Expect more chapters after this upcoming week!  
**

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**Awareness (IV)**

"Hello? …yes, you've reach the representative of Canada. How may I help you sir? …I see. Yes, of course, I am well aware of the situation. May I propose to solve it by-"

_Brriiinngg! _

"Excuse me sir, but I have another call. Please speak to my agents about this matter. Thank you."

_Brriiinngg! Brriiinngg!_

"This is the representation of Canada speaking. How may I help you? …Sorry, could you speak slowly please? …Thank you. Hmm…very well. I think I've got all the details…yes, thank you. You've been very helpful."

Canada placed the telephone back in its base with a sigh. He reclined back onto his seat and rubbed his tensed temples. Never before had he had so much work piled upon him to the point of stress. Papers were scattered all over his large, oak desk, waiting anxiously to be signed. For as long as Canada could remember, he had always been neat and tidy when it came to office work. However, ever since the secession, documents and files were coming in a steady flow; the never ending loads were constantly stacked one after another in his office.

Not only were all the papers suffocating him, but his office was always noisy with phone calls and urgent meetings. The office telephone never failed to ring every few minutes, and of course he couldn't bear to ignore them all. On a separate receiver were hundreds of voicemails that he couldn't possibly get to in one day. The Canadian felt bad for leaving it all to his overworked secretary to do, so he recorded them all in a little player for him to listen to all night.

With another heavy sigh, Canada picked up one of the files from the top of a large stack. His weary eyes scanned it word for word before signing it briefly. He selected another one that was twenty seven pages long. _This is gonna be a long night…_

The door creaked gently and Canada looked up expecting another visitor. He smiled seeing that it was only the little, fair headed boy, Sealand.

"Hello there," Sealand greeted the bigger nation. He nudged the door close with his foot for his hands were occupied with a tray.

"Hello yourself," Canada replied warmly, "It's pretty late. Shouldn't you be sleeping by now?"

Sealand crinkled his nose in mock offense. "I'm a grownup country now. I don't need silly bedtime!"

"Besides, I thought it'd be nice to bring you a little midnight snack. You must be exhausted from all that work," the little nation continued setting the tray down on a table. He carefully handed a steaming mug to the Canadian and a small dish that held two pastries.

"It's tea with a spoonful of maple syrup, just the way you like it. Oh, and that's a blueberry danish. I made it myself," bragged Sealand. Canada thanked the boy and took a bite. He laughed and nodded approvingly. Sealand beamed, pleased with his work.

After a long day of work, tea and a raspberry danish was exactly what he needed right now. Sealand's tea certainly managed to calm his nerves. Canada agreeably went back to signing papers, occasionally taking big bites of the pastry. He's got to admit, they were pretty darn good.

Sealand plopped down on the couch admiring the office. There were numerous flags in the room, one of which was his. Each one represented a nation of the Awareness Correlation. There was blue and red colored one with a golden crown on the farthest left for Liechtenstein. Prussia's eagle dominated one of the flags, while Seychelle's flag rang out an oblique and colorful design. Sealand's pennant was right next to the very center one; a red maple leaf banner.

Yes, they were one big family now, depending on one another for safety and commerce. If one of them were to break apart from the newly formed association, they would be left out in utter disgrace and embarrassment. Shunned away from society and the very world. It was reliance or seclusion for these countries.

To think that he, Sealand, was part of this whole revolution made the young nation quiver. It was unbeknownst to him whether if it was from fear or delight. He couldn't grasp the whole instance just yet, and the impact they were making to the world. He did know that the circumstances made a great deal of ruckus and commotion in his house.

His people, all seventy-five of them, were always running around conversing with the fellows from the British Isles. They would never tell him what was happening, for in their eyes, he was a mere child who had no business in the new nation's well fare. Nevertheless, excitement filled the air as news reporters flocked to the old English fort bombarding his delegates with questions.

In response, his citizens would make gaudy, empty promises that he knew they wouldn't be able to keep. Threats and insults were thrown back and forth from the United Kingdom to his people. Some warned to send troops over while others suggested bombing the fort once and for all. The natives replied with abominable curses to the English government and taunted them into trying it.

As much as he withdrew his eyes and covered his ears, the sounds of his country's uproar rang through his mind and he couldn't refuse to ignore it. Being a country was not as fun as Sealand thought it would be.

Sealand bit his lip and turned to the Canadian. He contemplated on what to say before hesitantly beginning, "Hey…do you think we're doing the right thing?"

Canada immediately stopped scribbling and looked up at Sealand.

"Wh-what I mean is, can we really make it out on our own?"

Sealand's sudden question caught the Canadian off guard. He considered his answer thoughtfully for a moment. A hint of melancholy was traced on his face.

"To be completely honest, I don't know. I have no idea what's going to happen, nor do I have the slightest notion on what to do," he paused seeing the boy's face turn grim, "But I believe that if we stay together and work for our goal, we can make it out of this successfully. Just imagine how much the world's views of you and me will change after this revolution. We'll finally earn the respect and reverence we deserve. America, and England, and all of the others will finally recognize us and what we truly mean to the world. We are not weak, Sealand. We have the capabilities of changing things once and for all."

Sealand looked away from him uncertainly. Canada's lips curved up into a comforting smile as he walked over to where Sealand was. He took a seat right next to the child. There was a moment of silence before Canada spoke again.

"I once knew a great man who had the world's greatest force against him. A huge war broke out, one in which the man himself declared on his much stronger opponent. Many of his people died and were down hearted in the possible outcome of the war. You see, his rival had the upper hand because they had a much larger, trained army and heavier artillery. Nevertheless this man, though the odds did not favor him, pressed on and continued attacking." This obviously caught Sealand's attention.

"What a stupid bloke! Why on earth would he do such a thing if he knew he was going to lose anyway?" the boy exclaimed. The spirit returned to his sea blue eyes.

"Ah, but you see, he didn't lose."

Sealand was puzzled, "But how can that be? I thought you said he was weak."

"Hmmm….I don't recall ever saying that he was weak. His determination was stronger than anyone else fighting in the battlefield. That determination was fueled by his one main goal."

"Well, what was he fighting for?"

"Freedom," Canada replied simply. Sealand made an astonished sound. "Freedom?"

"He told me that it would be worth all those pains for freedom, liberty, and well…you know."

"What a strange person," Sealand mumbled.

"Yes, he was. No matter how much we damaged him, he would always get back up for another attempt."

Canada closed his eyes reminiscing _those years_.

"I'm trying my hand on it too. It'll all worth it in the end."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Canada pulled Sealand into an affectionate hug and caught the young nation by surprise. He returned the hug shyly. Canada smelled like maple syrup and vanilla, it was inducing him to sleep.

"Thank you, big brother…"

They stayed like that for a while. Just Sealand and his big brother, Canada.

Before long, Canada heard the little country snoring. He carefully placed the child in the couch, careful not to wake him. A pang of guilt suddenly filled his head.

There was so much responsibility in his hands now. Canada didn't know how he could prioritize his growing list. There were so many important things to take care of and he felt guilty for bringing Sealand into this mess. He knew that he wasn't the only one affected by the secession. The others, especially Sealand, were already having troubles with their neighbors and that they needed immediate support. Canada made a mental note to send some troops over to aid the arising conflicts in Europe.

The telephone began ringing again and the frustrated man walked back to his desk to answer it.

"This is the representation of Canada speaking. How may I help y-"

"Mister Canada! This is important! Turn on to the news right now!" he heard his Prime Minister panicked. He immediately switched the tv on and flipped to the news. Canada was met with utter chaos.

American and Canadian polices were running back forth with mere civilians carrying what looked like sports equipment. On another display were business people arguing and suing each other. Border control was having a very difficult time carrying out its job as people entered in and out of the American-Canadian border. A grave news reporter was straining to keep calm as she assessed the breaking news.

"**-This is a truly disastrous ordeal we have here so late at night as one ground breaking question stands; how will the United States of America respond to Canada's call for withdrawal?"**

Suddenly, a large crashing sound came from downstairs. Canada sprinted down the hallways to meet the intruder. There, standing amidst the rubble of a broken down door, was a furious America.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

** 1. To all of you who are bored with the whole Canada and America storyline, the next chapter will be about a different country.  
**

**2. I apologize if this chapter turned out a bit messy. I have a big project that I'm suppose to be doing right now, as we speak. It's the last one of the year, so that means (possibly) more stories!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**I feel a bit guilty for not updating sooner. This is a pretty conceivably long chapter (in my opinion). I tried my hand at with the Baltics' characters, however, I am not very sure they are completely accurate. Nevertheless, I tried with the best of my ability so I suppose I should just make do with it. Thank you very much for taking the time to read this story, readers. I look forward to making more chapters as soon as I can get them all on paper...and not lose them.  
**

* * *

**Awareness (V)**

A sweet euphony escaped from a young man's mouth. His clear, green eyes scanned the newly refurbished living room, taking in the glorious homey atmosphere. It wasn't every day that Lithuania would find his home in perfect sterile peace and serenity. Everything was perfect. Well, almost…

Sighing good naturedly, Lithuania fixed the collection of crooked photographs on the counter. The frames were all musty brown and covered in dust from years of service. Pictures of Latvia, Estonia, and Poland were incased within the glasses, decades of years old, perhaps even more. Two pictures promptly caught the Lithuanian's interest as he shuffled through the memorabilia. One was of him and the Baltic States posing solemnly behind a very cheerful Russian. The other was of him and Mister America sitting comfortably on the benches outside the house.

From what he could remember, the American was doing some spring cleaning. Granted, America didn't get much cleaning done, even though he offered to help. Lithuania remembered conversing peacefully with him that day with a cup of coffee in one hand. It was a beautiful day, much like how it was outside at the moment and he was happy. It seems as though Mister America had the uncanny ability of spreading his cheery attitude with the people he met. Well… for most of the time anyway.

The brunette winced slightly. What would America think about him betraying his trust as a fellow comrade? It was distressing to even think about his reaction right now.

However, as for the other picture, Lithuania carelessly disposed of it in a trash bin.

There was a loud opening and closing of the door and sure enough, little Latvia came skipping in. A grin was remarkably imbedded on the usually sheepish country.

"And where exactly have you been?" Lithuania questioned.

"With Sealand," the lad simply replied. He jumped onto the couch and propped his feet up on Lithuania's spotless table. The older country promptly smacked them with an unamused glare.

"Please be serious and try to stop acting like a child for once. We both know that you have a lot of work that you should be doing right this very second. I don't like you slacking off on your duties as a country."

"Boo, you're no fun, Lithuania. Besides, how often do I really get to enjoy life like this? I want to be happy, not a punctilious nation like you," said Latvia, popping a lollipop in his mouth.

"Honestly Latvia, if you weren't so lazy and slacking all the time, you'd be as much of a genius as Estonia."

"Is that so?" A new voice immerged. Lithuania's eyes widened as Latvia jumped up to greet his fellow Baltic. The blonde man stroked the child's head with a barely visible smile. He turned to look at the other nation.

Lithuania nodded once in acknowledgement, "Estonia."

"Greetings brother. You are looking very well," Estonia commended.

"As do you," replied the brunette almost robotically. The two men made no indication of hospitality. They simply stood eyeing each other apathetically in a combative standpoint. Finally, one of them spoke again.

"Latvia, please be a dear and fetch Lithuania and I a drink from the store. Here's the money. It should be plenty, so get yourself something special on the way back. Move along now," Estonia articulated handing the boy a wad of bills and coins. Lithuania dismissed him with a smile and a nod.

With the boy gone, the room suddenly became tensed. The two nations openly expressed their irritation through the transmission of auras. Lithuania could feel the weight of aggravation coming from his brother's gaze. But there was something else. There was a hint of pity…

"Latvia is looking very happy today, isn't he? It doesn't look like he cries anymore, either," the blonde cautiously began. He took a seat in the couch, hands folded in his lap.

Lithuania chose to sit on a chair farthest away from the man. "Yes. He's been fairly well, ever since we joined the _secession_…." He paused to let the idea float in the air. Estonia seemed thoroughly unfazed, barely blinking at all.

"Is that so?" He sounded unimpressive.

Lithuania bit his cheeks before continuing. "Canada and the others are very supportive. They're helping us cope with political and affiliation disputes. Latvia is somewhat at ease now and he has a wonderful relation with that micro-nation, Sealand. I-, well by that, I meant, _we _don't always have to constantly worry about his welfare anymore."

He sneaked a look at Estonia who was listening intently but with very little fascination in his eyes. "But you know, we still need all the help we can get…"

"Why don't you join us, brother? With your wits and skills, we can expand the Awareness Correlation. Not only that but we can ensure Latvia's safety and keep him well away from _his _grasp. We can-"

"I certainly hope you are sane enough to assess this preposterous outlook. Tell me Lithuania, have you lost fear of _him_ because you possess the 'guaranteed' protection" offered from that ludicrous group of yours? Have you forgotten the extent of his powers against all of us?" Estonia's voice gradually rose by each uttered word.

His sharp eyes perceived in front of him a foolish knight confidently relying on its king for protection against vandals. What would the king do, but send his knights to fight for him? Alas, each would be lay dead unceremoniously on top of one another. And who else to pick up the remaining fragments, but the last reigning tyrant. His older brother obviously did not think any of this through. Although he was always the one being taken advantage of, even right from the beginning.

"Is it wrong to trust and hope? This is not about me, little brother. This is about Latvia. Yes, I admit, I still harbor fear. Deep down, I don't think I could ever forget. But I must suppress this fear for Latvia's sake. Never in a million years do I ever want to see him suffer through all that again. He will never get to Latvia ever again…"

Lithuania's hands unconsciously touched the imbedded scars on his back. His hands were trembling, sure enough. Not only that but his legs buckled from gravity. Estonia's gaze softened for a moment seeing his brother in a state of apprehension, only to harden again.

"You're wrong. It's not worth all of these pains, if it means indefinitely losing in the end."

The brunette's eyes widened at the comment. Without thinking, he slammed his fists onto the cherry wood table.

"Oh shut up Estonia! You couldn't possibly understand, since you've always been the lucky one! Perhaps if you stop thinking things detail for detail and just look at the whole picture, you'd realize that there is such thing as hope. Something can be done, no matter how small the effects will turn out to despite the cons."

Estonia fell silent from Lithuania's sudden outburst. He'd never seen the man with such spite in his words. He mused for a second as Lithuania struggled to compose himself.

"…I'm sor-"

"Even if I _could _help, Russia's military far exceeds all three of us combined. It's unimaginable what he's capable of pulling off…." The blonde pushed his glasses up solemnly and stood. "… and don't be stupid Lithuania. I would think that you knew better than that, you being the eldest out of us after all. I perfectly understand what you and Latvia are going through. I'm not as dense and ignorant as you perceive me to be. However, that isn't a rational excuse for haphazardly lashing out on Russia. I suggest you think of the consequences of your actions, and not just the pros no matter how tempting they seem."

This struck Lithuania dumbstruck. He tried to find words to exchange but Estonia stood up and headed towards the door in one fluid moment. Without sparing another glance at his brother.

"I expect _he's_ plotting something big this very moment. Watch your back and stay close to your little…confederacy. If you're smart, you'd best be worrying about Latvia's south-eastern border. Request additional reinforcements from the Canadians and post them up accordingly in the east ranges. Lastly, prepare for the worse. Ration everything from food supplies to ammunition, understand?"

"...whose side are you on?"

"Neither." And with that, Estonia walked away sparing a final distant glance at his brother.

Lithuania sat there on his carpeted living room staring at the door for what seemed like hours. He replayed the whole conversation with Estonia before finally coming to his senses. Several minutes later, Latvia arrived holding a bottle of champagne in one hand, to find one less nation and his big brother furiously dialing numbers with a hardened expression.

.:.

Estonia thanked his driver as the car dropped him off to his house. He was certainly looking forward to a calming drink, perhaps a book or two, only to find a certain Russian standing on his doorstep. The nation turned to look at him with a sweet smile. The blonde took a step back impulsively.

"Ah, Добрый вечер, good evening, Estonia," he said pleasantly. It was an awfully brilliant afternoon. Crickets were chirping away with the steady breeze, the sun barely peeking out from the horizon.

Receiving no answer, Russia played with the cornflowers planted along the porch. They were nothing compared to sunflowers, of course. Sunflowers were more flamboyant. More grand, far more superior.

"I assume you went to _advise _them, did you not?"

He kindly offered the smaller nation a bouquet of yellow roses flown straight from the Netherlands. It definitely wasn't a sunflower, but it was fairly suitable.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**1. Yes! It turns out that Estonia is neutral. Granted, I never said he would be included in the U.A.C. If the Baltics, especially Lithuania and Estonia, were wrongly characterized, please do forgive me. I tried researching, reading other fanfics, and reading a helpful review to increase my understanding of them, so I can't say I did not do any research.  
**

**2. The flowers served as symbols in the story. I am thoroughly interested in 'Hanakotoba' or Language of Flowers and I thought it would be nice to incorporate them in the story. Symbolic Meanings:  
**

**❀Cornflower: persistence, and from what I heard it symbolizes agriculture and politics in Estonia?  
**

**❀Sunflowers: loyalty, haughtiness, and proud. **

**❀Yellow Roses: jealousy, friendship, broken heart, betrayal, and strong emotions.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back to writing this story again! I apologize for the absurdly long wait, anyways, I assure you that I have no intentions whatsoever to end this story. Albeit, there will probably prolonged updates once in a while but it's summer so there's more time to preoccupy myself on writing. Lovely day to you all and thank you for reading.  
**

* * *

**Awareness (VI) **

Canada alarmingly scanned the destruction of his door before turning to the man who had broken it shamelessly to bits. America's eyes were a blazed. His usually cool cerulean irises were replaced with a turbulent sea-blue and a scowl seemed permanently fixed on his mouth, eyebrows knitted dangerously together. Not only that but he had the air of an insane, psychopathic drunk around him. Strangely enough, he smelled more of butter than any of alcohol. This did not bode well for the hosting country.

Canada flinched in annoyance and took a deep breath. "Say, haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"I really don't give a shit Canada. Have you seen what's been going on in Ontario? Those stupid moose lovers of yours are whoopin' my people with fuckin' hockey sticks! Better make 'em stop before one of my boys pull outta gun. Second Amendments Rights, dude. What happens after one of 'em fires is beyond me since _you_ intelligently started it."

America trampled over the debris, carelessly kicking pieces of wood all over the place. The thick, mahogany boards snapped like mere twigs under his feet. Canada watched silently praying to whatever god out there for patience in order keep his head.

He did not need to start this with America. No matter how much he despised his brother, it was _not _in his plan to harm or upset America, especially since he was one of the world's top superpower, and not to mention that he also owned the largest military out of all the nations. No, Canada was a peaceful, diplomatic country. Indeed, he was a true role model of high position and displayed virtuousness. After all, last year he was ranked the 8th most peaceful nation in the world right next to Finland and Norway. The Canadian consoled himself with those thoughts and pushed most of the irritation in the far reaches of his mind.

"Need I remind you, _Yankee_, that you are treading on Canadian soil, therefore, I have every right to police your actions. No exceptions, _neighbor_," he replied evenly. The America's scowl was replaced by a cocky smirk.

"Speaking informally to me now, aren't ya _Canadia_? That aside, what are you gonna do about 'my actions'? Are ya gonna launch those mounted policemen at me, huh? Is that it?" he prompted scornfully.

Canada remained unmoved. His violet eyes bore at the American's smug gaze like mined amethysts catching the fiery sun's rays for the first time.

"Didn't think so." The jester sneered.

America's plan was easy: bully Canada enough with his obstinacy until the helpless nation finally gives up and starts acting normal again. It worked with most of the other countries, and judging by Canada's nature, he'd succeed in less than half of the conversation. It was sure to work, foolproof even. He didn't have to go that far to threaten Canada with his nukes. America always gets what he wants. It was this very attribute that pushed him at the very top of his game, with all the measly countries looking up from the bottom. And he _really _wanted his normally compassionate brother back, by all means necessary.

"Look, bro. I seriously know why you're doing all this. You want attention, not 'awareness' that you and the others parade on about. You want all the big shots to look at you instead of me, and I can totally understand that," America started. He tried to make contact with Canada, but the nation shrunk away from his hand. He kept that same apathetic guise in his face, but his knuckles conveyed his emotions otherwise as they were white from clenching them so hard.

_Ah...so he was finally getting through to him_. The American's ego skyrocketed. This was just _too easy_.

"It's not your fault that your weather sucks and people would rather go to me. After all, my climate is much more favorable than your twelve month winter. I mean seriously, who'd want to drown in snow all year? And it's way too cold to grow anything. Have your people actually eaten any fruit that was _not _imported from me? Face it dude, without me you wouldn't have decent food in the table. You are _very _welcome, but I'm just _disappointed_ how you're thanking me like this."

The Canadian's eye twitched. "Leave," he spat.

_So close, just a little more and he'll break…_

"It never fails to upset me how ungrateful you're becoming to me, the world's _greatest_ superpower. It's heartbreaking, really, to see my dear, little brother act so out of place amongst the circle of genuine, important countries. What a shame indeed. And not even a single ounce of respect for his older brother's position. Honestly Canada, you're _pathetic_," America feigned pity, toying with the nook of his shirt.

"Should I even _start_ with England and France?"

Canada's eyes flashed dangerously with shock and outrage. His face was flushed with the same red hue on his flag and he was shaking dangerously.

"I said, _get out_."

_That finally hit a nerve. One more thing oughta do._

"Be honest Canada. You _know_ they've always liked me best. You _know _the real reason why France abandoned you and you _know _that the real reason why England ever bothered to keep you was to spite me," the dirty blonde asserted half concernedly. He was doing this for their own good no matter how cruel it was. If playing the villain would solve the problem, then so be it. The heroism could wait for better times.

Through all those centuries, America had always known about his sibling's loneliness. But why should he have had spared him if there was no valuable gain in doing so and lest be swapped away from the other countries' eyes? Inside, he was thankful to have only two opponents to compete with in the continent. Unlike Europe, where countries were bunched up and forced to live with centuries of bottled up hatred for one another, America had it much easier to preside over the two and use more than seven million kilometers of land (and that's excluding Hawaii and Alaska) to his full advantage. Indeed, he was lucky.

"Poor, worthless Canada, left all by himself in his cold, desolate land. And who else was left to recognize his existence but his big brother, America?" the pitiless nation replied before a fist connected harshly with his jaw. There was a stunned silence between the two as America recollected the episode.

As for Canada, he couldn't contain his rage anymore. He had to do it. It was his first step to finally stand up to the oppressing nation. Though it wasn't part of his plan, Canada found it necessary to put an end to this. He glared icily at the shocked country before him in the ground, not regretting his decision.

Both of them were not expecting the Canadian's reaction.

Blood dribbled down the American's chin, staining his favorite aviator jacket. America wiped the hot, sticky liquid to examine it. It had been quite a while since someone actually drew his blood. He arrogantly spit the coppery taste in his mouth onto the velvet carpet. Canada didn't even have time to register the next scene as America returned the punch and tackled him to the ground.

The two nations wrangled and snapped at each other, neither one prevailing to subdue the other. America was certainly not holding back with his mighty blows, but he couldn't deny the stings from Canada's kicks. Bruises formed from where Canada punched and struck him.

Canada was definitely not weak. He had his fair share of muscles and had the capability of holding off America. However, he did know his limits. America's blows were taking a toll on his body for the nation was striking his critical functions, particularly his ribs and face. His glasses were cutting his face and was trickling blood onto his eyes. It was blearing his vision and he didn't have the luxury of wiping them in order to block and counter America's punches.

With a clean hit, Canada knocked America's glasses off and shoved the nation from him. America caught his footing preparing to face the Canadian again. His nose was bleeding profusely but he was in no mood to see to it, his eyes only trained on the rising country. It was a wonder how Canada could still stand with the amount of blows he took. America wasn't doing any better huffing like a mad dog.

Canada blindly charged America, unexpectedly crashing into Cuba's back. The man was in a defensive stance, much like wall, scowling stoically at America. The cigarette undeniably in the country's mouth made him a great deal menacing. Canada vaguely saw the American clutching his cheek, he did not see the punch, but it was presumably from Cuba.

"Cuba. How long have you been here?" speculated the Canadian.

"Long enough." He turned to the other blonde. "I suggest you get your ass out of here, you stupid American, before I really whoop you."

The intensity of Cuba's glare sent shivers up the North American brothers' spine. America looked around and saw that there was no winning this. Things were not going as planned. He disappeared gravely with his fist clenched beside him. If anything, he made everything worse. _Fuck. _

Canada watched his brother stumble out the driveway and into his car. The twilight sky mirrored his emotions; a mix between fear and exhilaration. It wasn't the first time he had fought America. The War of 1812 still rang loud and clear in his memories, but to fight _truly _for himself was a whole other feeling. He'd be rejoicing if only the fear hadn't outweighed his exhilaration. America was sure to strike back. The man was friendly and easy to get along with if he enjoyed your company, but he was not one to be messed with in the events of war. America punished and killed if he saw it just, and there was always a way around the term. Canada grimaced at the thought sending the blood from his cheekbones running down his face like crimson tears.

"You alright?" Cuba looked at his injured friend in concern.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem…. Is Sealand-?"

"Yes, he's sleeping upstairs."

"I see…"

Canada's eyes were still trained on the driveway.

"I warned you it wasn't going to be easy, mi amigo," the country reminded him. He took a long drag of his cigar and fetched the first aid kit. Canada was going to need a lot of stitches.

_I know it wasn't going to be, and I suppose I should have expected no less than this to happen._

_It was starting; the commencement of a great war… _

_It's only a matter of time until the clock's final ticks for the bombs to go off. Only a matter of time...  
_

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
**

**1. Chapter 6 is completed! Cheers! I hope it was satisfactory for you. Believe it or not, everything on this chapter was written as little notes on scrap pieces of paper when the ideas randomly popped up in my head, and then compiled altogether make...well, this. **

**2. I apologize for making America look like a bad guy. I assure you, he really isn't. He is just stressed and shocked about the whole ordeal, and well, uses the wrong approach to solve problems. ****Oh, and I do hope none of you Canadians are offended about what he said. T**his was intentionally suppose to be Canada's view of the scene so it changes things quite a bit.  


**3. I haven't the faintest idea on who to center the following chapter around. Perhaps I should get back on the other countries and see how they are faring. Or maybe, perhaps I should write about America's perspective the day after this chapter? What do you suppose? I'm always open for suggestions, but please keep it appropriate. Thank you for reading!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm back - again! I'm very sorry for the preposterously slow update. It was very hard writing this specific chapter, albeit that it is also pretty boring. Feel free to skim right through it. The next chapter will be a lot more enjoyable to write, so maybe I'll be motivated to write faster. Once again, I apologize for this chapter.  
**

* * *

**Awareness VII**

It wasn't long before the whole world heard about America and _Canada's_ great brawl. Yes, Canada's name was now being echoed, whispered, and exclaimed into every up to date conversation started by one country and continued farther on by another. The news spread like wildfire continually passing on from one lip to the next. Skeptical nations from the great event before were shocked and had no choice but to resign that an up stirring was, _indeed_, happening.

Many called Canada's feat daring and even heroic, while some fussy nations claimed it was heresy and was not something to be rejoicing about. From either points, every country was divided on who to support and who to reject as an unpleasant bystander. While many admitted Canada's deeds were audacious, they remained stone down on their overall opinion about the labeled 'foolish' nation.

Upon reaching Europe, the news was celebrated with many applauds and cheers from Prussia and several other European nations who came to rejoice. The albino had called for a celebration with barrels after barrels of beer. Those who were present included the two Baltics, Romano, Hong Kong, and even delicate, little Lichtenstein. Due to the geographical expanse, Australia and Seychelles could not make it but the Aussie certainly sent his merriment. A crate full of Australia's finest wines and beers were sent to the party along with a shipment of kangaroo meat. Prussia immediately started grilling the meat, chugging down the beer along with it.

"So…that Canadian idiot finally manned up and thrashed America, huh? It's about time!" Romano smirked, drinking his fair share of wine. He wasn't all too fond of reunions but the Italian was pleased on how things were going so far. His view in the secession was that if they were going to get anywhere, one of them would have to start the upheaval. He felt foolish hanging about and avoiding his little brother rather than taking real action. Spain's unexpected 'visits' didn't help one bit, as the Spaniard was intent on getting him out of the Correlations.

"Indeed. Mister Canada's exploits surprised me as well. To think that he actually faced with Mister America like that! I've lived with him for quite some time and I must say, Mister America is definitely not someone to be taken lightly," Lithuania fidgeted the rim of his glass. Of course, he would never admit that he was secretly worried for the American. The man was so good to him during his fall out in World War II, always cheerful and smiling, treating him like a fellow kin. Still the others would surely accuse him of being a traitor, if he ever spoke about it out loud.

Lithuania flinched feeling Prussia's arm snake its way on his shoulder. He was sure the albino meant well, but he wasn't exactly in perfect terms with him. Memories from when they were still little nations constantly peeved Lithuania. With the insults, and the acorns, and the arrows. It was enough to make the brunette flinch from recollection.

"Nah, I knew Canuck had it in him. When a man needs to stand up for himself it's only natural for the fists to connect first before any real persuading happens," Prussia laughed and paused to take a swig from his jug, "And anyways, we should have expected it no less. It's always the quite ones that snap the worst, ain't it Liechtenstein?"

The blonde haired girl sitting courtly in the sofa jumped in surprise. In all honesty, the poor girl was tense. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone to a public occasion without big brother Switzerland towering and watching her every move. In a room full of men – and Prussia no less! If Switzerland was here, she was sure he'd shoot them all without a moment's hesitation.

"Y-yes…I suppose…," she replied finding nothing better to say. Liechtenstein smiled and supposed that this whole new experience was part of her first steps as a self-sufficient nation.

It was very awkward and tense for one moment. Lithuania tried scooting from the enthusiastic Prussian as far away as possible. He certainly didn't mind loud people; he was just _more comfortable_ with anyone but Prussia at the moment. After all, years of warfare and fighting with the German doesn't just vanish into thin air. Finding the Lithuanian inching away from him, Prussia only snorted and strangled him closer.

"Kesesesese! This is the most fun I've had in years. If only West can see me now, me, the awesome Prussia moving up the totally wicked social ladder like a boss. And _he _said I couldn't last a day with you guys, even though you're all completely unworthy and boring as hell."

"That isn't exactly a flattering comment, asshole. Seriously, it's all the same with you German bastards-"

"Hey! Who are you calling asshole, you pathetic Italian!"

"Look who's talking. I bet you couldn't even last a day without freeloading off of Germany's house. And you're calling _me _pathetic. At least I actually am a nation," Romano sneered triggering a very predictable response from Prussia.

"_Micro-nation_! I am a micro-nation and soon to be a full-fledged one! It's only a matter of time… But enough about the awesome me, everyone here knows you're just an underdog compared to your little brother. We don't need two Italies, especially when the other one is so much better at everything!"

"Why you arrogant, son of a-," Romano was cut by the sound of a breaking table. The whole room turned to Hong Kong who was eyeing them with a disappointed expression. He pointed to Latvia to speak for him as the Asian nation walked out of the room.

"I-I think what Mister Hong Kong was saying is that we should stop fighting amongst ourselves. It's not going to help us if we channel our irritation out on each other," the small Baltic started. Through the course of the rebellion, Latvia had built more confidence into himself. Perhaps it was because of the time spent away from Russia. The effects were indeed pleasing to observe.

"And anyway, I think we're missing one crucial part of this conversation. Mister Canada is going to need us now more than ever. America is sure to strike after that little accident and we need to be there to back him up."

"He's right," Lichtenstein pointed out. "Not to sound rude or anything, but we should be preparing on our side too. I do not think it we are in stable positions, with what everyone one of us here landlocked with the other countries. They may choose to attack in our undefended flanks. The rest of Europe can act unexpectedly and we wouldn't have a strategy of any sort to defend ourselves. Just because we are the apparently scrawnier countries, it doesn't mean we can't fight back. Let's take big brother Canada's lead and take these matters into our own hands."

As feeble as she looked sitting in that chair, legs crossed like a proper young woman, Liechtenstein had her fair share of tactics. It was a bit unsettling, revealing this trait of hers to the gents but she couldn't just stand by like an obedient, little dog like she had been to Switzerland. Granted, she couldn't help but miss his comforting presence before her.

The nations in the room gawked at the girl's assertion before Prussia conveniently killed the mood, applauding and filling his beer mug for the fifth time that afternoon. Heck, even Romano managed to crack a smile and at that time, Hong Kong managed to slip coolly back into the room, refreshed by the new atmosphere.

"You would expect that little Liech here would pick up something from her brother's military composition," the white haired albino commented. He offered a drink to Lithuania (and Latvia) and the wary nation couldn't help but accept it for good old kinship. What a peculiar day this was turning out to be.

"Gah! I almost forgot! Switzerland's on the opposite side too! Think of all the weapons he could be distributing all over Europe to annihilate us!" Romano shrieked, clutching his dark brown Italian hair.

"Eh…he wouldn't do that…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
**

**1. Ehh...how was it? I'm not expecting a lot of feedbacks from this chapter since it was short and so boring (reading and typing it up as well). But hey, I tried. Feel free to express your opinions about the story, especially about the characters. I don't want them to become too OOC, but they need to develop some confidence and character too. But please, try to be polite about the comments and criticisms. I don't mind them, but please don't be harsh. I can take a hint and try to improve.  
**

**2. This is completely irrelevant but to any _Australians_ out there reading this story, please fill me in on this. I've only ever heard of the stereotype that Aussie's eat kangaroo meat (because apparently they're supposed to be bountiful there) but do you guys _really_ eat them? I mean, I'm sure not all of you do. That's like saying that every American eats cheeseburgers and pizzas, which by the way _isn't true_. Many people here I know are vegetarians. Please don't take this question the wrong way, though. I just really am curious whether this was true or not. My culture tend to eat balut (fertilized duck embryos) so I won't judge you, if that's the case. Anyway, I am so excited to feature Australia into this! He'll appear soon!  
**

**3. Last but not least, a cousin of mine calls Canadians, _canucks._ This is also completely irrelevant to the story, but I thought it was a cute nickname for Canada. Anyone care to tell me what it really means? From what I take, I don't believe it's an offending word.  
**

**Thank you for reading!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Awareness VIII**

America woke with a start; a dull, throbbing ache enveloping his senses as much as every portion of his body. With his arms and legs feeling as heavy as lead, they were useless in helping him get out of his navy blue love seat. Throw pillows were scattered everywhere hiding away the soiled shirt and jacket he had worn the night before. The blonde blinked and rubbed his eyes, which were without any doubt looked similar to China's pandas from the way they stung, only in a more sick bluish-green hue. Everything in sight was unbearably blurry and it hurt to squint in order to focus on a specific object. Albeit, he could still perceive outlines of familiar objects in the living room.

Without another thought, the nation groggily fished for his spectacles he lovingly called (and represented) the state of Texas. Fumbling the top of his dresser drawer and not finding them at their usual position, America hastily swiped everything within reach in an attempt to feel the familiar cool metal lining of his glasses. What he found instead was his cellphone vibrating like an irritating bee. Sighing in disdain (although he could not make out the caller ID), America answered the phone with a gruff and distant, "Hello?"

"It's about time you decided to pick up the damned phone, bloody tosser."

Great. It was _him_ again. The nation supposed England called to rant again. It was after all, what he was an expert at – probably even the best in the world.

"What do you want old man?" America yawned. Right in the middle of it his face froze into the most unpleasant way in which his dislocated jaws locked into an uncomfortable position.

"I was informed of what happened between you and Canada not so long ago. _Way to make matters worse, chap_. I simply applaud your performance there. In fact, I believe this is your best exploit yet," the voice in the other end remarked, sarcasm dripping off every word.

_Just like a true English gentleman. _America huffed.

"Look. I don't have the energy for your sarcastic crap, Mr. I-know-every-bloody-thing. If you called to mock me then I suggest you get the fuck off."

What a wonderful way to start an already sucky day. He'd woken up with stiff muscles, a killer headache to match, and now he was being reprimanded like a naughty school boy by dear old dad. Just _great_. Oh god, Iggy's English-ness and sarcasm were rubbing off of him now! Realizing this, the blonde banged his head against the wall. He could hear France flying in his mind saying "Like father, like son."

There was a thoughtful silence on the other end and shockingly, England's voice softened for a moment.

"Hmm…very well then. You hardly deserve it, but nevertheless I will be there in a few hours to tend to your wounds. I presume Canada did a pretty good number on you. What can you expect? I did raise him." England paused contemplating what he said.

"W-Wait, that came out wrong."

"Why not? You _were_ pretty violent raising us as little colonies. Remember being a pirate with that badass gun you always carried around and all the sailor talk?" America chided. Oh, the old croon was so easy to tease. Good ol' grumpy England. God, where did those days go when he and Canada would stowaway on the pirate's ship inside water barrels? The two would imitate the pirate captain's drunk and slurred sailor mouth and erupt into a fit of giggles. They'd both be caught eventually but the trouble was worth it. England would rant endlessly, America getting the load of it while Canada was crying guiltily in the corner for not behaving like he should have. Geez, what a baby.

"That was the bloody past! And you're lucky I actually cared…err… minded back then. I could've let France take over you and if it wasn't for me you'd be speaking French. Now I suggest you shut up purely out of respect before I change my mind and go home!" He could imagine the blonde Englishman twitching in irritation the way his voice shook.

"Respect my ass! I never asked for your help so there's no reason to get pissy to me about it. And from what I can recall - ahem, 'Fix this madness! Blah, blah, blah. And don't bother talking to me. Blah, blah, blah.' Ring a bell?" The playful nation replied mimicking a posh English accent.

Again there was a slight pause._ Take that old man!_ He smirked inwardly.

"Belt up, you ungrateful child! May I remind you that I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart? Now, I've got to go. I have a basket of remedies and some healthy biscuits here that'll get you up and better in a jiff. The faster you mend, the sooner you can start fixing the problem – the _right_ way, this time you dolt."

There was a click and soon after a faint humming signaling the end of the call. Now there was only one thing left to do. America dialed the number of everyone in Congress and the president, arranging a conference with them as soon as possible. The blonde grimaced with the responses and screams he received from the big boss. Of course, they'd have a lot to say about it… But that would have to wait until a little later in the day.

Right now he much needed a freezing shower. If he was lucky, the cold would numb the soreness surrounding his body. The cool drops of water felt like heaven against the nation's painfully sore skin. After at least half an hour standing idly in the shower, he finally got out feeling more or less better. It was only when he got a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror, did America noticed the enormous bruise on his left cheek. It stung like hell when he tried feeling the sucker. The bruise arrogantly sported a sickly shade; a mix of blue, olive green, purple, and black. Not only that, there was a shiner on his lower jaw as well as matching black circles under his eyes.

"Shit." The blonde inspected his torso covered in massive bruises and undeniable cuts. His sickly, pale skin made an unattractive contrast to the multicolored wounds, made solely by the Canadian. Just before he was about to count the bruises littering his legs, the doorbell buzzed expectantly. He slipped on a clean shirt before stumbling to get it.

_Wow. Iggy sure wasn't kidding when he said he'd be here in a few. _

The man enthusiastically opened the door for the stuffy British nation.

"G'day, mate."

You can imagine America's face when he faintly made out a brunette leaning cockily against the front porch.

"Uhh…and you are…?" The American squinted in an effort to recognize the figure on his door.

"Hmm. That's a tough question. I suppose I should answer that... I'm a brother of some sort…" The fellow replied his tone refreshingly and cheerful yet something about the way the words slipped out of his mouth seemed malicious. It was hard to get a good grasp on who the person was, that's for sure. The British accent was there but with a slight twang to it, still, it was unlike England's fussy way of talking.

"I don't have a brother," lied the nation preparing to close the door. "I think you have the wrong house, buddy." And with that, America slammed the door rolling his eyes quite rudely. His cheek still stung like hell and he resolved on getting an aspirin in the kitchen. It would probably take a while until England comes so maybe he could catch a nap until then.

America's plans were interrupted when the door swung open, crashing onto the wall holding it up. Sure enough, there was a fairly large crack from where the doorknob collided against the side. It appeared as though the 'visitor' managed to stick his foot in between the door before it closed permitting him to slip inside. The brunette was looking around his living room now with a profound look of interest and innocent curiosity to match his audacity. _Asshole_.

"Get out!" The man jumped at the sudden rise of America's voice. Nevertheless, his lips resumed their blameless, smug smirk, his expression completely childish and unchanged. America probably couldn't see all of those features but he could sure as heck _feel _the mood this man was radiating at him. It's amazing what a day without sight can do to a person, eh?

"Blimey! My, my, my. Don't you Americans know the word 'hospitality'?" His guest was waving his index finger almost _mockingly _like a parent lecturing a four-year old not to eat a fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pie or a child's favorite sweet. It was exasperating and it was offensive at the same time.

Before the blonde could come back with a remark of his own, the unwelcomed company plopped onto his couch propping his boots on the coffee table. The man grinned playfully at his host brushing pretend dust off the furniture.

"Not cool, dude. I don't know what country you're from but in the U.S. of A, it's illegal to enter an American's house without approval. Now please _get the fuck out _before I get my gun," America threatened taking a swipe at him. Once again, the infuriating man worked his magic and effortlessly evaded the nation.

"Really now… is that any way to talk to a visitor delivering a little present for you? I've traveled all the way out here, and I'm sure the little ankle biter would get mighty upset if I don't pass it on to ya," replied the man unfazed by the American's threat. He pulled out a simple rectangular box from his pocket and tossed casually at the blonde.

America barely caught it, nearly missing because of his poor eyesight, and eyed the box suspiciously. He'd been taught at an early stage not to accept gifts from strangers. The chances of a bomb inside the innocent looking package were high seeing as some would go to the extremes to sabotage him. Still the fact that they sent such a suspicious character as a the deliveryman was beyond his comprehension. But putting such precautions aside, he opened the box.

Inside, wrapped in several layers of tissue paper, was Texas. It was battered and cracked, the hinges barely hanging onto the frames and lenses which were regrettably fractured. There were subtle evidence of repairs but they were in vain because all in all, Texas was so damaged to the point where it was almost impossible to make out.

"Holy shit," America said taking his glasses out of the box and carefully putting them on. He blinked once. Twice. His dazed eyes flicked over to the Aussie sitting comfortably on his couch. It was still a bit fuzzy, but now he recognized his fellow nation; the bandage across his nose, the coffee brown hair, the two flicks of hair sticking up in the front, and even more so, those abominable eyebrows and green eyes he inherited from England. He was smiling – no, smirking as always his lips pulled up smugly.

"Australia, you bastard!" America grabbed the brunette's collar, tempted to rip that cheeky smirk from his conceited, little face.

"Haha! You're mad as a cut snake, cool down a bit. Don't I get a 'thank you', mate? I did relay that all the way here for a little fella who happened to salvaged it from the rubbish. Ain't that nice? Really, you should be thanking 'im," Australia's voice was controlled and even, a hint of animosity barely contained.

America's eyes darkened considerably at the mention of a "little fella." His grip on the man's shirt tightened.

"It's Canada. He sent you here, didn't he?" Venom dripped from his lips as he articulated his neighbor's name.

"Maybe. Maybe not," the brunette shrugged. In a flick of a wrist, he released himself from America's grasp. He brushed himself off indifferently, ignoring America's glare.

"What've you got against me?"

Once again, Australia shrugged indifferently and dusted pretend matter off his shoulder. The conceited look was back but the distaste lingered on the country's lidded eyes.

"Oh this and that. Trivial things, really," Australia replied settling on the couch. "For one, I blame you for the high rates of skin cancer in my corner of the world."

"How the fuck could I have contributed to that?"

"CO2 emissions, dipstick. D'you have any idea what you're doing to the atmosphere with what all of your fancy-shmancy, coal eatin' factories? Honestly mate, have some respect for the world you were created for."

America rolled his eyes and huffed in disbelief. "You seriously just barged into my house for something as trivial as that? Look buddy, I feel bad for your citizens, I mean, I'm sure it's devastating and all, but if you want someone to complain to then it's China you're looking for. _He's _the one with the highest emission of CO2 right now, alright? As for the whole global warming, greenhouse effect, environmental shit, me and the other countries are still working on it during our meetings-!"

"Uh-huh. And how has _that_ been going, brother?" Australia cut in.

"L-Like I said; we're still working on it. Granted, we haven't gone very far with it," the blonde mumbled the last part. "Anyway, quit calling me your brother. I'm in no way related to someone like you."

Australia sneered. "Heh. England was right. You _are _a little brat. I honestly can't see what he found so great about you, even after all these years."

"Don't start guilt trip with me, bastard. It ain't gonna work with me. The old man's all in the past and not once have I ever regretted kicking him out."

The Aussie clicked his tongue and lolled his head back, stretching further onto the couch. "That may be so but England still unfortunately cares about you." He laughed. "In more ways than one, I guess he is a stupid old fool. After you _discarded_ him he simply just… well, changed. He couldn't take the fact that his favorite ungrateful, self-indulged colony ditched him like yesterday's news. Poor, _poor_ England."

"You make England sound like an abandoned puppy. The guy was a dick, plain and simple. I _fought _for my freedom even though I tried to get him to listen to reason. It was _his_ own fault, not mine. End of story." America had his arms crossed. He was itching to kick his troublesome guest out of the house.

"And your point? I've had plenty of disagreements with him in the past and even now, but I'm grateful of him and _let it go_."

"Yeah, be proud of staying in that oppressive empire he calls a family. I bet you and that Canadian moron all have matching t-shirts that says '_All Hail the Evil Overlord of the British Empire'_." Australia couldn't help but crack a grin at that but gave a little kick at America's shin. America grimaced. The bruise was still fresh and throbbing like hell.

"Empire's gone. And at least I stayed, mate."

"You are such a mama's boy, dude," America commented. "But I bet you upset 'mumsy' for joining Canada's little posse."

"_At least I stayed for him then."_

"…you do know he was just using you to brag to France and Spain, right? It was pretty much just a show of how many colonies they can hoard altogether. A race, if you will. You were just part of a collection and to milk money out of. Hey, weren't you that colony he used to send his exiles after he was done sending 'em to me?"*

In a flash, a dagger was positioned dangerously grazed with America's throat. The blade was so sharp that a small streak of blood trickled from where it barely touched the skin. The Australian's eyes were a dull shade reflecting America's shocked expression.

"Heh, you think you're so great don't you? You with your over the top attitude and that silly notion that you were made to save and protect everything, while quite the contrary, you'll destroy anything you can get your hands on. And even then, _he'd_ always find some reason to forgive you."

America's hardened eyes were fixed on the hilt of the knife, calculating the appropriate time to counter. Surely he was strong enough to fight back but the murderous intent of the Aussie held him steadfast. It was if he was visioned as some sort of prey, begging to be skinned alive. The cool tip of the dagger slowly traveled its way onto his cheek where it grazed the skin and left it bleeding.

It was also during that second that England walked in, with what the front door previously left unclosed because of the unexpected visitor, carrying a hefty basket full of remedies.

"Careless git! You left the door open again. How many times must I tell you… Australia? What on earth are you doing here?"

By now the brunette had retreated and hid the knife away from view. America didn't even have time to recover before the Australian was smiling again and walking enthusiastically to greet the Brit. He had an arm slung around England's shoulder and pulled him close like an old friend.

"I could ask just about the same to you. How've you been doing, mummy? Heard you were having a bit of trouble with brother Yankee over here so I came by to check up on him. Looks fine to me though. Nothin' too rough a man can't handle by himself," Australia chatted naturally to the man. He laughed and ruffled England's hair who was a head shorter than himself.

"Who are you calling _mummy_, boy? If you are to address me so casually, at least use the correct _masculine_ term. And good heavens! Your definition of 'fine' is atrocious. Why, he looks simply horrendous if not horrific!" England hurried to America's side, holding him up (for he had fallen from his bout with Aussie) and setting him down properly on the seat.

"Thanks for pleasant comment," America mumbled.

"Canada really did a number on you hadn't he, lad?" England rose to get his basket of supplies leaving the two side by side in the couch.

"He _sure_ did."

"_Shut up, asshole_," seethed America. It was then that the Brit came back and ordered America to take off his shirt in order treat the bruises properly. America, embarrassed, refused at first but with a few testy coaxes from England, he finally gave in. It was utter humiliation for the North American as the Brit tended his wounds (including the cut on his cheek) with Australian glaring from the corner of his eye and England acting like a mother, cooing reassurances for coping with the slight stings as a mother would be applying a band-aid would to a toddler who had gotten a boo boo.

How completely unlucky it was for him that England's instinctive motherly persona only came out when the two were alone. It was amazing how the man would act like such a stick-in-the-ass prick when it came to them being around the other countries, but then magically turn into the most caring (creepy was what America liked to call it) parent in the world.

…Only they weren't really alone. Australia has still there, mind you.

It was weird how England seemed to ignore Australia completely as if he was never there to begin with. Now it may have been just a case of de ja vu on America's part, but the concept was strikingly similar to what he'd seen before with his _neighbor _up north. In all honesty, it was painstakingly awkward to watch an Englishman wrapping bandages and ice patches, humming a comforting tune, and throwing the occasional comfort comment to America, whilst the American was blushing furiously from embarrassment and engaging in a glaring match against the Australian whose eyes flicked back and forth at the Englishman and the American.

"Why the hell do you still treat him like a little colony, England?" The question just popped out of the blue. England seemed to jump before forcing a weak smile towards the brunette.

"Y-You're still here, Australia? I thought you'd left quite a bit ago… a-and there is no harm done helping a fellow country."

There was an awkward silence before Australia leapt up. "Damn it England! Have you even taken notice of the fact that I joined the UAC? Do you even give a shit?"

"Now young man, don't start this with me. You know that I've enough problems to deal with right now with your brothers here and I certainly don't need you to add to it with this little fit of yours," England stated rubbing circles on his temples.

"_Little fit_! Yes, _of course_ it's little compared to anything this idiot asks of you, but whether I do something good or bad it's still just a _little fit_ for you. I've tried, England. Honestly, I've tried hard to be whatever you wanted, given you everything from territories to gold. The land, the floras I've preserved, the industries, wealth, my loyalty, Canberra, Sydney – every single bit of it was for you! _Why can't you just turn your head a bit and look at what I am today?_" He was shaking now, the cool front dissolved into outrage.

England was unsettled as well, shocked from the nation's outburst. "I'm sorry Australia, I really am but-"

"But it isn't good enough for you, is it?" he disturbed. "Because if it wasn't for this idiot," he pointed to America, "Nothing _we_ could have ever done would be nearly as acceptable compared to all the trouble he's done for you. Canada and I stayed for you after that bloody Revolutionary War and yet even that isn't enough for you to remember us by. You're a bloody fool, England. You're a fool for standing by someone like him." Australia shot America a nasty look.

Then just as quickly as he'd gotten angry, his lip upturned once more into his typical smug smirk. He roughly cupped his former caregiver's jaw and tilted it up to meet their bottle green eyes. England, who was still a bit dazed and was still processing the tirade thrown at him, stared back uncertainly. There was an understood silence as if they had a conversation from that look. As for America, he stood from the edge of his seat ready to pounce if the man so dared to attempt anything to hurt the Brit.

Australia noticed this and barked with laughter. "Keep your guard down mate, I ain't gonna hurt 'im. After all, he is our precious mother. Aren't you, mummy?" he cooed to England before letting him go.

"What happened to you, Australia?" England stared silently at the floor. "Why-"

The brunette cut him off again. "Don't you worry England. After this full-blown war, that's bound to happen seeing as how things are going now, I won't let them destroy you. In fact, I'm planning to keep you as a sort of victory prize when we win. Just be something to show off to the other countries, am I right? Call it being a family if you will."

"Fuck you." America finally spoke up after all this time, his aura matching Australia's, who just laughed again.

"I return the remark, Yank."

Australia selected a scone from England's basket. Nibbling it, he went on his way calling out from outside.

"Your scones are as good as ever, mum!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**1. It's been quite a long while since the last time I've updated this story, hasn't it? My previous goal at the start of summer was to finish this before school started again. Sadly, I'm afraid that even now I can't even give steady updates. Really sorry, but just as I have said before, I don't plan on quitting on this fic. I will certainly finish it, I can assure you, it just won't be anytime soon.  
**

**2. And so Australia finally shows up, eh? I don't mean for him to look like a mean character and I don't know about you guys, but I personally love him. He has to be my favorite character in this story right now - although Canada is cool too. Now, I admit, I really didn't take the time to research Australia thoroughly (I mostly just skimmed it through some books and the net) so I apologize in advance. I know there some people out there who like precise, accurate information (frankly, I'm like that too) but think of how long it would take to write the story. And in any case, this is a work of fiction. Give me a break, please? Still, it doesn't mean that I don't want to hear all about what I did wrong about it. In fact, fire away if I missed something, just please keep it appropriate. Specially about the slang and terms I'm using for him.  
**

**3. Just so you know facts from the story:  
**

**- Australia is one of the countries with the highest rates of skin cancer.  
**

**- Some parts of Australia were for penal settlements from Britain. I believe the U.K. used America for penal settlements also before Australia. Food for thought, you know?  
**


End file.
